


The Flying Spirit

by Cleo2010



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Bonding, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inferred abuse, Non-Explicit, Past Abuse, Prompt Fic, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleo2010/pseuds/Cleo2010
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4885.html?thread=6817045&posted=1#cmt7073813">prompt</a> on the Cabin Pressure Community by anon requesting Douglas and his daughter making a troubling discovery that hits far closer to home than a certain first officer could ever have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flying Spirit

Another divorce, another house. Still, Douglas Richardson was no one to be down for long. Onwards if not upwards. "Here we are, number thirteen." He drew his Lexus in front of a neatly painted garage. It was a pleasant three bedroom semi detached house with two blooming flower baskets either side of a bright red door. "Doesn't look too bad." 

The house wasn't too far out of Fitton and Douglas couldn't wait to move out of his bleak rented flat. He wanted a house, a proper family house with a garden. He may not be a full time father but he wanted Emily to have a place that felt like home, not some bachelor crash pad. Maybe even somewhere she'd like to live when she eventually goes to college. Douglas had done a little research and the two colleges nearby were top notch. It never hurt to think ahead. "So, what do you think?"

Emily, for all of her burgeoning preteen maturity, was almost climbing out of the car window in excitement. "Oh, oh! It's got a tree swing, dad. You _have_ to buy this one! Please!"

"Well I must say the tree swing is rather fetching but let's make sure the house is planning on staying upright for the next day or two first." 

"Not like the last one." She shuddered dramatically. "I don't ever want to know where that smell came from. The place was rotting."

"You should smell some of Arthur's cooking." Douglas said all too fondly. "Come on, let's have a look before Monica: The Extraordinarily Optimistic Estate Agent joins us and tries to sell us a house that's actually on fire."

Emily giggled, leapt out of the car and made for the tree swing. She jumped into the seat and set herself going, tipping herself far back enough that her long brown hair touched the grass. Douglas took a sneaky photo on his iphone to show Martin; even at twelve years old she could still be his little girl. 

Douglas leant against the tree to watch. It was a beautiful April day, it was a shame to think he'd be flying to perpetually chilly Alaska next week. "I think we were lucky to make it out alive. One more creak from that wretched 'house' and I'd have scooped you up and jumped out of the window." 

Emily rolled her eyes and muttered something about embarrassing dad's but Douglas saw the begrudging smile on her face. The last place really was atrocious. Douglas couldn't believe the estate agent thought she stood a chance of selling it to anyone with a sound mind. Even a lunatic would have thought twice.

"Good job you enjoy a little danger and excitement with your old dad."

"Creaky buildings and mouse droppings? Yeah, dead scary." She deadpanned.

"So was I just imagining you holding on to my arm when you thought you saw a rat?" Douglas strolled around the back of Emily and gave her a push. There was no need but he was running out of years he could do this kind of thing.

"Yep. You imagined it." She tipped her head back and grinned. "You're getting old, dad. Can't trust your memory anymore. You'll be walking with a stick soon! Losing your teeth! Wearing your-" 

Douglas wrapped his arms around her at the height of her swing and gave her a tickle. "DAD!"

"A stick, huh?" Douglas didn't give up on his tickling, even though his back was protesting. Emily giggled and squirmed. "No teeth? I'll be dancing down the aisle at your wedding, missy! And smiling while I do so!"

"DAD!" Emily was kicking her legs and gasping for breath. "I take it back, I take it back! You're not old!" 

Douglas ceased his tickling but didn't let go, choosing instead to kiss to top of her head. "You are getting far too cheeky, my girl."

"Mum says I'm too much like you."

"Take it as a compliment."

"I do, dad." Emily leant her head against her father's and Douglas tried not to think too hard about how long it could be between visits. "Are you going to keep being mushy?"

"Far too cheeky." He let her go gently and guided her to a stop. "Come on, let's have a snoop around before Monica arrives with the keys and tries to convince us that the woodworm is an aesthetic choice."

"Or the mould is just fancy wallpaper." Emily grabbed Douglas's hand as they snuck down the side of the house. It was a lovely looking home. Freshly painted windows, large gardens and even a quick peek through the windows gave good reason to be hopeful. 

After climbing over a gate they found themselves in the back garden done in an English cottage style. It really was lovely and Emily was already off exploring. "Oooh look, a cellar!" 

"Maybe that's where they kept the bodies." There had to be something wrong with the place. 

"Maybe it's haunted!"

"I can live with a ghost or two. As long as they don't break all my crockery or hide my keys on a work day."

"Knowing you, you'll marry it." 

Douglas had heard that tone before. It was guaranteed to be snuck in at least twice per visit and it had gotten worse since Douglas had broken up with Helena. Emily hadn't really gotten on tremendously well with Helena, especially as Douglas preferred to spend his time with just his daughter when she visited. There never was enough room for them both and Emily had always come first. No wonder the marriage didn't last.

"There's only one woman I rely on. That's why I'm taking her house-hunting for her wisdom and insightful advice."

Emily didn't answer. Instead she walked down the steps to the cellar down and fiddled with the padlock attached to the rotting wood. "This is rubbish, I could pull it right... off."  
"And indeed you have. Congratulations, you've just broken into your first house. At least I hope it's your first."

"It's criminal damage, dad." Emily corrected. "I haven't gone in."

"Should I be worried that you're so well versed in British law?"

"Mum's new bloke is a policeman." Emily didn't look at him as she spoke. Douglas had wondered if she'd been introduced to yet another 'suitor' belonging to her mother. It always set her on edge, she wasn't fond of change like most children. 

"Oh. That's... nice." 

"Won't last. Heard mum talking to Auntie Julie, he's rubbish in bed apparently. Ugh, I didn't need to know that but you know what she's like when she's jabbering away like no one else exists. Blah, blah, blah."

"She does like to share." Just as Douglas could see the conversation getting more awkward his phone bleeped. "Ah, looks like the lovely Monica has been taken ill. She's sending someone else over but they'll be half an hour."

"Probably caught some disease from that ugly house."

Emily was slipping into a bad mood so Douglas decided a distraction was in order. The last thing he needed was for his name to come up in a future argument between mother and daughter beginning _'well dad said...'_ He'd learned that lesson a few times over. "Right." Douglas strode past into the basement. 

"Dad! We can't go in!"

"No harm done. No one lives here and the house is empty. I want a little look at the foundations and by the time Monica's replacement has shown up he or she will find the broken lock on the floor and two prospective buyers enjoying the swing."

"This isn't your first time breaking into a place is it?" Emily was sporting a small yet conspiratorial smirk. 

"Where's your sense of adventure, my girl! Not scared of ghosts are we?"

"No! But I'm not falling for that trick, I'm going in because I want to look too." Emily stormed inside. "Oh god, it's really dark- AAAGGHHH!" Douglas earned a punch to the arm for nipping his fingers on her waist but it didn't stop him laughing. "Dad! God, you're such a child!" Emily was smiling despite her anger. "Like having a little brother."

"You can consider that revenge for the time you wandered off on the beach."

"I was five!"

" _I_ was terrified." Douglas settled the argument. "Now, calm your nerves, I'm going to grab a torch from the car boot. Careful for any bodies."

"More like spiders. You'll be scared then!"

"I fear nothing!" Douglas ran to the car and grabbed his torch but by the time he returned the lights were on. "Clever girl."

"Light switch, not exactly Mensa stuff."

"I didn't think they'd have the electricity turned on." It was still quite dim. The cellar was partitioned off with hefty stone walls making small segments. They walked through the centre aisle, each segment had been cleaned out and swept but the wooden shelves remained. "Would make a nice wine cellar. Red, white, champagne, rose."

"Smells funny."

"Does a bit. Just needs an airing. Looks solid though. I think this place is older than it looks."

One of the partitions by the stairs to the first floor had been filled in with relatively more modern bricks. The wooden door looked just as rotten as the one outside. It had a wooden bar to lock it from the outside, a bit like a stable door. 

"You think we'll find the murder weapons in here then?" Emily nudged her dad with her elbow.

"Oh definitely, detective Richardson, lead the way."

Emily lifted the wood but struggled. "Ugh, it's not been opened in ages."

"They said the house hadn't come onto the market for a few years, some dispute over the mortgage." 

"Boring." 

Douglas leant a hand and the wood jerked sharply upward. "There we go." There was no light in the small room so Douglas handed over his torch. "Give me your expert opinion, my dear."

Emily smirked and stepped inside. "Well, Mr Richardson." She put on the overly posh voice Monica obviously faked. Douglas had loved Emily's sense of humour from the first time she'd pretended to be her grandmother telling her off for putting her elbows on the table. "It's very cosy, rustic, a very authentic dungeon experience."

"Oh yes, I am looking for a good dungeon."

"The stains on the floor are like art. Really... eww." Douglas poked his head around the door. "There's art on the walls too, look likes someone scratched 'I'm sorry' onto one of the stones. No, I don't like this, I'm getting out. Oh god!"

Emily pushed past her dad before turning around and burying her face in his chest and squeezing tight. "It's okay, sweetheart." Douglas soothed as he stroked her hair. "It's alright. It's just silly words."

"There's more. Don't buy this place, let's go, please." She was frightened, looking up at Douglas with tear brimmed eyes.

"What did you see?"

"I don't want to... please, it's creepy! Let's go!"

It was then that Douglas saw the bottom of the door. "Looks like someone kept a dog in there. I'm sorry, love, some people are cruel."

"Dogs don't write 'let me out' or 'I'm stupid' or 'I'm not afraid of the dark'." Tears began to fall as her voice broke. "Please, I want to go home."

Douglas really did want to scoop her up and take her to safety. "Ok, ok, let's go."

He kept his arm around Emily's shoulder until he put her safely in the car. "I'm just going to shut everything up, I won't be a moment." She nodded and wiped away a few stray tears, much calmer now they were back in the daylight. 

Douglas marched back to the basement and head inside with his torch ready. He wanted to know everything that had upset Emily so he could say the perfect things to make her forget all of this. 

He stood in the cramped, squalid hole. Claustrophobic, no light or even signs there had ever been one. The smell was off, like there was a hint of ammonia. It was dreadful, no one would want to spend more than a minute inside. Quickly Douglas shone his torch down the walls. They were mostly clean apart from a few scratched words and pictures along the bottom edges where the owners hadn't been so diligent in their scrubbing. Douglas saw the words Emily had seen as well as pictures of the sun, clouds and aeroplanes. They overlapped, probably drawn in the dark but he could make out a spitfire and a biplane. 

"Good lord." It was no wonder Emily was so distressed. She was a sensitive girl despite how much she'd argue should anyone say it aloud. Douglas had learned the hard way after sitting down to watch The Lion King with her when she was six years old. She took everything to heart. It was both a blessing and a curse.

He'd seen enough and couldn't bear the smell any longer. Whatever had happened here had happened a long time ago. He headed for the door when his eye was caught one last time. Scratched into the stone by the door was a name. "Oh god."

 

Douglas was ashen by the time he returned to the car. He started the engine and drove quickly away, still feeling chilled no matter the distance he put between himself and the house. "I think we've done enough house-hunting for today, how about we pick up our tennis racquets and have a game in the park. Shame to waste a day like today indoors."

"They kept a kid in there, didn't they? A boy."

Douglas wanted desperately to lie and protect her from the cruelty in the world but she was getting older now, he couldn't protect her forever and her trust was important. "Yes. I believe they did. A long time ago."

"Do... do you think he died in there?"

"No. No he didn't, darling." Douglas replied softly. He survived.

"How can you know! He couldn't get out! They might have left him there and he died in the dark all alone!" Her face crumpled with sadness once again. "He was frightened! I bet he didn't have any friends either."

Douglas didn't care that they were on double yellow lines so stopped the car to bring Emily into a tight hug. "He got out, sweetheart and he grew up and became the toughest, bravest and most stubborn man you've ever known." Douglas swallowed hard to keep his voice in check. 

"You don't know that." Emily still sobbed, her tears soaking through Douglas's shirt.

"He drew planes. I bet he covered all the walls with them. He drew planes with such detail and he did all that in the dark. He had to concentrate and be so careful because flying was everything to him. He kept his dreams alive in there. He was scared but he never gave up. That's how I know."

"That's why he drew them? He wanted to be a pilot? Or build them or something?"

"It's a good bet. You can't crush a flying spirit." 

"You really think so?"

"I do."

"Can we see who owned the house before? I want to try and find him."

"I don't know if he would want to be found."

"I need to know, please. I just want to know he's ok."

"Some mysteries are best left unsolved, darling. Trust me, that boy made it out and he would never stop chasing his dream. No one would appreciate it more and no one would sacrifice more. No one would deserve it more than him."

"I hope so."

~~~*~~~

"Morning, Douglas. Any luck with finding a house?"

"No, we gave up in the end. I brought Emily here instead and took her up in one of Dirk's prop planes for a little sightseeing from the skies."

"I didn't know she liked to fly. I thought she found it boring."

"She's had her interest sparked recently. How was your weekend, my friend?" Douglas hadn't been able to think of anyone but Martin in the last few days. A much as his heart ached for the boy he was but he'd found a new respect for him. A reason to be a better friend as well as an affectionate adversary.

"Busy. Had a big trip up to Manchester but the tip I got was very generous. I can fly without a care for the rest of the month. I quite fancy seeing Alaska in the spring, all that open space. Lovely."

Douglas only caught it briefly but his smile was heartfelt as he took a side glance at decrepit old Gertie sat waiting on the tarmac. "A true adventurer. Then again you'd probably enjoy anywhere as long as you got to fly there."

"I hear Mogadishu's lovely this time of year." Martin quipped.

"We could go via Damascus."

"Oh, they've got a brilliant aviation museum!" Martin said enthusiastically while taking the flight plans from Carolyn's desk. "Probably not the best tourist destination at the moment but one day."

"You should write reviews and put them on the internet. I'm sure there are other aviation bores who'd like that sort of thing."

"None as boring as me."

"You should say that with pride. The King of the Bores!" He boomed with gusto. Douglas couldn't help but smile as he picked up Martin's hat and ran his finger over its gold braiding. Enough to light up the darkest space. "You really do have the flying spirit, Captain Crieff."

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to the anon who sparked this fic when she suggested that Emily find troubling signs in a cupboard and the words 'Martin Crieff was here' scratched into the wood. I didn't want to spoil that detail in the summary!


End file.
